#im so pathetic i can't even stay off tumblr

[mizugucci]

👍

[pervygrandpa]

i feel so disgusting when i come on your blog. i feel pathetic, like a whore, and like ive become exactly what men see me as: a worthless hole. but here i am again, sending my 5th anon to you. im sitting on my bed with my pj pants and panties around my ankles and i have my legs squeezed together from scrolling through your blog. i am so wet, im not exaggerating, im literally dripping onto my bed, my thighs, and my asshole. im an 18 year old virgin who dreams for old mens cocks, im a filthy slut.

Imagine if you were staying with grandpa while you were doing that. I'd crack open the door to check on you and instead of you sleeping this is what I'd see. It would definitely turn grandpa on. I'd slip in the door and close it behind me. You'd look up shocked and embarrassed to be caught. I'd walk up to the bed and tell you it was ok and not to be embarrassed because everyone does it as I take in the sight of you half naked and obviously very turned on.

Can I see your phone sweetie? What's got you so worked up?

At that moment reality seems to sink into your brain and you realize how embarrassing it's going to be when I catch you looking at grandpa blogs.

But grandpa I'm embarrassed, please don't look.

I put my had out and you hand me your phone nervously, your hands shaking a little. You're so scared you'll get in trouble but so turned on at the same time. Wondering what I'm going to say as I scroll through the post, while trying to sneak a peak at my boxers.

I motion you to scoot over and sit down next to you on the bed, you still haven't covered yourself and I can see your naked teenage pussy and my cock starts to grow.

So older men turn you on huh. I understand that when I was your age I was into older women. There's something about someone with experience that just turned grandpa on just like it does you apparently. Do you want grandpa to leave you alone or stay and look at tumblr with you?

You don't say anything but put your arms around me and put your head on my chest, just like when you were little. As we scroll through the pictures of girls with older men my cock stiffens even more and it's not long before it's poking out of my boxers. I ask you a question but you don't answer and I realize you're lost in thought staring at my half exposed cock.

Have you ever seen a real cock sweetie?

No grandpa.....

I scoot down the bed and slip my boxers off and lay down with my cock sticking straight up and you can't take your eyes off it and I see your hand down stroking your pussy while you stare. I clear my throat and you look up at me and I bend my head down and kiss you. It's a little awkward at first but you quickly get the hang of it. I run my hands under your shirt and cup your breast playing with your nipples enjoying your moans as we kiss. I slide my hand down and cup your pussy and my my are coated in your juices. I start gently teasing your clit rubbing it with my fingers. You let out a loud moan and grab my arm so turned on you quickly start cumming.

Did you like that sweetie? You nod your head yes as you lay there panting, your pussy soaking my fingers.

I lay back and pull you against me letting you enjoy the feeling of your orgasm. You've got your head on my shoulder and and hand on my chest as you come down to earth telling me how good it felt. You start rubbing your hand down my belly but you stop before you get to my cock.

It's ok sweetie you can touch it..........

[babybluebex]

Well, since we got the dark stuff go ahead:

TW: flogging, bloodplay

Gotta ask about whether or not the Padre has a history of self flagellation, maybe he falls back into when the reader shows up and they catch him doing it and it can either go the soft way, which is angst and sweet, or the real fucked up way, which is;

The Padre swallowed, fingers twitching as you reached for the whip. "I'm not done."

"Obviously." The weight of the leather coil is heavy in your palm, and you can't resist wrapping your fingers around the cord.

He grunts at the experimental pump you give it. His legs ache, the bit of weight he can manage to brace on his forearms are even worse; the marble feels like its cutting into him, the strain on his arms echoing into his shoulders, down his tattered back. He can feel it, staining down his sweat pants, dripping onto the alter.

You seem...calm. Not quite indifferent, your eyes are sparkling far too brightly for that, but there's more approval on your face than judgement and it makes him want to fall into a heap at your feet, but that would require taking his gaze off your hands.

Frankly, you're pretty damn preoccupied with them yourself. It's so...delightful. If you were the sentimental type, you'd call it beautiful the way the sweet Padre's blood painted the worn brown leather, but you weren't, so no need to share that thought with Antonio. The leather cord with easy rolls of your wrist. Your fingers get redder with each stroke, and your smile gets wider.

And wider still when you lift your gaze just so, and see how clearly aroused he is.

It's sort of cute, in a pathetic needy kinda way, so you offer him a whisper of his name.

"Antonio."

His good Christian name.

The considerable bulge in his thin grey sweats twitches and the material hides nothing and better fucking yet, they're soaked with precum and maybe a full on ejaculation and God damn, if it isn't a pretty sight.

And knowing it was all because of little old you was just icing on the cupcake that was your day right now.

His big doe eyes flutter when you touch his cheek. He can smell his own blood. It's rich and cloying and sharp, and he inhales deeper.

He deserves everything you're about to give him.

"This is because of our little chat this morning?"

His eyes stayed closed. Your fingernail traces the dimple in his cheek and one of the gashes on his back slots itself into the edge of the alter and he moans.

Your mouth waters as his Adam's apple bobs, the sweat on his brow, from exertion or arousal or pain or some sublime combination, is starting to show through what little scraps remain of his white shirt, and you hum as you wipe your hand off on the soiled wet cotton.

He grunts, the jostle sending a sharp jolt across his back, his sides, up his fucking cock, which is too much for him to process all at once, so he settles on forcing his eyes to open and swallows when your gaze finally meets his.

"'Cause I mean...if it is my fault?" You can't help but tug at the collar of his shirt. It'd be more fun if he was in the collar, but there was always next time. "I think you should let me help you finish."

Oh fuck, his hips stutter as your stomach brushes his, pressing his back into the cold, unforgiving marble, pressing his cock between the sweet plush apex of your thighs and it's warm- the heat of your body is wonderfully, splendidly alive and soft and sacred in a way he's never experienced before.

Oh, he's starting to slump against that alter and you can't help but slot your thigh between his to keep him upright and you feel a gush of wet heat.

Your brow arches and mouth puckers at the sight of a damp spot on your hideous khaki trousers. "Oh, that was definitely for me."

There's a certain amount of pride in your voice when you say it, and the good Padre supposes you've earned that, in your own sick way. He never should have let it get this far.

"Turn around for me?"

He obeys, shivering as he stretches out on the marble. It's cold and unforgiving and he suddenly hates the watchful eyes of the statues around him. They had been witnesses to his penance before, but now-

"Oh, Padre Domingo..." You tut.

Antonio pants as you peel the bloody remains away from his skin.

His back is covered in thick lashes, perhaps a dozen, perhaps a few less. A pitiful sight, really. Once pale skin all torn up, stripped to the muscle, decimated. Delicious though, and all for you.

"I expected you to be more thorough, darling."

He all but sobs at the disappointment in your voice. His arms shake, and you can see the battered muscles in his back spasm as his weight shifts and you can't help yourself.

Tender fingers thread through his dark hair. He's soaked with sweat. Dried blood moistens and streaks through it.

The touch lulls him a moment, just long enough for you to contemplate giving those lovely strands a harsh yank just to watch him flinch, but when he lifts his head to greet you as come around the side of the alter, you melt a little.

Offering him a sweet kiss, you whisper against his mouth, "Don't be afraid to scream, okay?"

Okay that got away from me. Valuable lesson learned, never write a first draft on tumblr.

I have an alternate scenario, but maybe I'll send that in a different part bc it wouldn't be a gender neutral reader like this one, if that's ok?

ASDFIJSOAJDFOAPD IM SO

[loxbbg]

The Scarlett Hero

Chapter 1: Growing up in Hell

Masterlist

Disclamer: This was originally written for an OC but for tumblr I made it x reader

Shoto and you have been going back and forth with your training. Tommorows your first day of U.A high. You  both got into via recommendation, you  both had to take a test for what class yall  were supposed to be placed in. You both got into 1A with your scores being identical to each other. Not going to lie when your parents and Enji found out how good your scores were, basically the entire hero world of Japan knew. Speaking of parents, it's been about 2 weeks since you’ve seen your’s, either its hero works and they stay back late so by the time they come home you're asleep or having a sleepover with Shoto.

You  basically lived with the Todoroki’s for multiple reasons, sometimes it's because since your  O bāchan died  on your birthday and  called the ambulance alone as she died in your arms from a heart attack, no longer being comfortable in the big house by yourself  without remembering that. Or you didn't want Shoto and his siblings alone in the house with your uncle alone. He still yells around you, but not as loud or breaks stuff according to Sho. basically living over there 5 out of 7 days of the week, you stay over.

You had a room in the wing Shoto and yourself trains. Enji moved Shotos room away from his sibling all the way to the other side of the house when doing that he stayed at your house, when going back Enji had also built a room for you across from Shoto, but that didn't even matter because when you actually stayed the night he had moved the bed from what was supposed to be your room into his. It was big enough for it so you shared everything. You even have a chest of drawers in his room.

No one ever had a problem, Enji actually encouraged it.   Shoto was your best and only friend but Enji always whispered how ‘powerful’ your children would be. But the idea of Shoto and you ever doing that was disgusting so it was just brushed off not wanting to hear the shit he would say if yall said no.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” You asked.You have never been to an actual school since moving to Japan it's only been homeschooling it went from your O bāchan teaching at 8 till basically studying with Enji up until now

“As ready as I'll ever be for my so called competition.” The class you're supposed to be in is supposed to be the ‘best of the best’ but all you really know is that  those kids haven't been through what Shoto and you have been through. You were born for that school.

“Just ignore whoever is there, we will be the best.” That night shoto and you  fell asleep ready for what's in store for tomorrow. For the first time in years not having to spend your entire freaking day with Enji  just you and your best friend, well him and alot of other strangers  but they can always be ignored.

This was the beginning of your freedom. Of maybe savoring whatever ‘childhood’ you could savor for the next few years, as normal as a hero in training can.

Staring up at the school in front of you, this was your first step towards being successful. Shoto stood next to you not really caring about what was inside but just seeing people. He hasn't even seen this amount of people, ever. You've only seen this amount of people when you were 8 when your parents had come back to Japan and were surrounded in the airport.

Walking through the hallways you ignored all the gasp and looks from the other students turning and talking to Shoto outside out of class 1A noticing the door was locked. You don't really understand why people were shocked to see the son of the number 2 hero and the daughter of the number 7 and 8 hero. Of course you would be here, they only accept the best of the best. When the door was opened by the janitor Shoto and yourself took seats at the back of the classroom sitting next to each other.

“Hey i’ll be right back, save my seat?”  He nodded. Walking around looking for a bathroom. After about 5 minutes of walking you found one around the support classrooms. Washing your hands you caught a glimpse of some girls staring at you in the mirror.

“Is there a problem that has you staring at me.” It came off as harsh but you  don't really want people looking at me. You're just like the rest of them aren't you supposedly supposed to be their equal.

“No! It's just, Is it true you and Todoroki are dating?” It's been an hour since you've entered this school and there are rumores.  Drying off your hands looking directly at the girl.

“Believe what you would like but Todoroki and I grew up together, were very close so take that however you would like to.” Walking out of the bathroom back to the class noticing there was a girl with scales on one part of her eye sitting in your seat.

“Sho.” he shrugged but motioned to the other seat next to him. The girl in my previous seat looked up at you confused. You just moved to the seat not wanting to cause anything unnecessary with these people.

Two male guys well more like one, one with spikey blonde hair and the other with green shaggy hair started arguing. The blonde one was yelling something about how he got into the class after seeing him fail at the test. If he really failed how did he even get into U.A did it lower its standards. The blonde was really just trying to get something out to the green haired on but he really just looked scared. Kinda pathetic really, maybe the blonde’s right is this guy even qualified to be in this class. But you got annoyed before even thinking to say anything, a voice yelled from next to Todoroki, the same person in your former seat.

“KASTUKI SHUT THE FREAK UP AND SIT DOWN WE ARE NOT DOING THE SAME SHIT WE DID IN MIDDLE SCHOOL.” He looked at her growled then sat in front of the kid he was yelling at. They obviously know each other for her to get him to stop mid yelling.

“What do you think our teacher’s gonna be like?” I can't wait to meet everyone.” the person basically shouted. Where the heck do these people think they are, a park?

“If you are here to make friends, you can pack your things right now.” A gruff voice came out.

“It took 8 seconds before you all shut up, that's not gonna work.” A zipper was heard and a man who looked more like a homeless person got behind the desk.

“Time is precious, rational students would understand that.” The pale skinned, lanky man said. He looked like he hadn't slept in days and was just worn out.

“Im Shota Aizawa. I'll be your teacher. Get up, let's go.” He walked out the class with everyone following him not really knowing what's going on.

Taglist: @fukyouthink

[rivkahstudies]

Hi, i've been having big troubles with wanting to be better at academia and stuff but im not really sure how to get started... i sorta feel like an imposter a lot but im trying to not let it affect me but sometimes i just have moments of excruciating executive dysfunction where i can't move because I want to do so many things and my body is fighting against me... Idk if i even have a question really but it feels better to tell you this... i really look up you a lot and have for a long time...

Hi nonnie! It’s incredibly brave of you to drop this in my inbox. Yes, even anonymously. It takes a lot to even type that kind of honesty out. So thank you, and I hope you take a moment to thank yourself.

Secondly, thank you for touching my heart by your kind words. I hope you realize as you look up to me that I have the same kind of feelings, as do many studyblrs–and I’m dedicated to being honest about it so you don’t feel as if you have to live up to a perfect (and impossible, and fake) standard. I go to therapy regularly despite being in a lot better place than I used to be, because it’s almost like going for a mental check-up or gym session, and my therapist helps me sort through even tiny things so I can build better habits and mindsets. But I still remember feelings of dysfunction well, and I still battle with imposter syndrome!

The most important key ideas here are attainable goals and self talk. Both of these ideas don’t come easily, they do take work, but they’re tools that make other difficult things easier over time, with persistence.

When your body is fighting you (and really, more than anything with executive dysfunction, your mind is fighting you and making your body less functional), even baby steps can be difficult. For you, it could be anything from exercising to studying to eating to showering. Big or small, it’s totally valid that you may or may not struggle with it, and it doesn’t make you desperate for attention, or fake, or pathetic.

Let’s take your desire to “get better at academia.” That could mean a lot of things, so I’m going to latch onto one facet of it as an example. If it doesn’t apply with that exact example, that’s completely okay! Just alter it to apply to what you are struggling with, or desiring.

1. Big, abstract goal: to get better at academia

2. What that means (for this example): developing better study habits

3. What kind of things constitute that? That’s still a big, abstract goal that sounds quite formidable and unattainable. List out as many things as you can that you are striving to do or would want to try. Not everything might work for you!

Managing time better

scheduling study time

being accountable via apps or with family/friends

being efficient or effective (i.e. not getting distracted 

Finding study habits that work for you and for the class’ requirements

flashcards

typed computer notes

handwritten computer notes

handwritten paper notes

infographics

youtube videos

interactive online exercises

conversations with classmates, tutors, or professors

podcasts

mind maps

journal entries

presentations

self-made study guides

practice tests (self-made or provided, online or on paper)

Feynman’s technique–writing a summary of what you’re studying, and then comparing it to the actual material. Whatever is missing is what you need to focus on, because my mantra is that it will always appear on the test.

ranking the subjects or topics by what you know most to least and studying from the bottom up. I can post a more detailed guide to this if you want! just hit me up again.

Also changing the way you treat and care for yourself

setting a stable routine

eating better (this means different things for different people–maybe you need more Vitamin C, so you should focus on more fruits in your diet, or iron, so vegetables, etc… consult with a doctor or registered dietician, not a nutritionist since they don’t have to have a degree or certification)

going to bed at a routine time

if you have to choose one, make the wake up time set. that way, if you do go to bed late but wake up at that time, it’ll reset your body clock to be sleepier earlier the next day. it’ll eventually even itself out. 

drinking more water

setting up or revising your skin care routine

taking measured and unmeasured breaks away from studying to allow the information to set in your brain and to give your mind and body a much-needed reprieve

setting limits on how much screentime you want yourself to add

Self-talk

This is the big one I want to impart on you before this post is over.

You can’t just try to implement these better habits. You also have to focus on what you’re thinking when you’re doing or not doing them, and how you’re psychologically treating yourself. This isn’t easy! It takes a lot of time. And that’s okay. You aren’t going to be free of this stuff overnight. I’ve been working on this stuff actively since I was about 17 and I’m still struggling with it. But I’m also much better at addressing it than I was almost three years ago.

Be aware

Recognize when you’re treating yourself harshly. Acknowledge those times you say “I’m not good enough” in the very back of your mind. Because a lot of times we aren’t even fully conscious of how much we say “I hate myself” or “I’m stupid” or “I can’t do this.”

Once you’ve done that, start calling attention to it.

Hold yourself accountable. If this were someone hurting a friend of yours, you would likely be calling them out for the whole world to know their cruel behavior isn’t acceptable. It’s the same thing for yourself! Those awful thoughts in your brain might live there from self-doubt, mental illness, or other reasons, but you do get to decide if they pilot your actions and your mentality, even if they’re whispering awful things about how you don’t have a choice but letting them be in control. 

I will freely admit on here that I’m attending therapy, because I seek to destigmatize it. I’m not at rock bottom. I’m not pathetic. I just noticed some things about me that I need to change, heal, and/or improve, and I wanted a professional to help me! Much like if I sprained my ankle or got a cold and needed to see a doctor. And one of the things that my therapist told me was as much as my anxiety felt debilitating, I am the one piloting my body and I am the one who gets to decide whether my self-talk is going to change.

And do it gently.

Not “you’re an awful person for saying these things about yourself.” You don’t solve bullying with bullying, and you definitely don’t solve putting yourself down or feeling like an imposter but doing more of the same. Instead, show compassion to yourself. 

Have a conversation with yourself.

“Why do I feel like this?” 

“Where is this coming from?”

“What makes me say that?” 

“What can I say instead?”

“What would make me feel better?”

“What could change my mindset about this problem?”

The choice is up to you how you do it. But pretend you’re pulling someone who is misbehaving or acting cruel aside, and instead of reprimanding them, you just gently put your hand on their shoulder and say, “I’m here. What’s going on? What’s causing this behavior?”

Do the same exact thing with yourself! Offer that compassionate hand. If you’re anything like me, your imposter system is probably coming from undue pressure on yourself, self-doubt, previous bad experiences, fear of failure or rejection, insecurity, anxiety, or any number of other things that could make you doubt your beauty, your talent, your work ethic, your ability to succeed.

And a lot more people have it than you think! Just don’t compare yourself to others when, even if you know them well, you can’t know them 100%. I’m sharing my experiences because I want you to know that you’re not alone. And I also want you to know that you can only fix yourself, you can only control yourself, and the same goes for others–they have no business (and probably aren’t thinking of having any business) judging you or controlling you. If they are, screw them. Your job is to take care of and focus on yourself.

Once you know where it’s coming from, start substituting the language.

You can’t do this. “You may not be able to do this yet, but with some effort, you’ll be able to–or, you’ll be close to being able to.”

You’re a failure. “Everyone makes mistakes or fails. It doesn’t define you.”

It was just luck that got you this far. “It was hard work, passion, and effort. Keep hanging onto those things.”

You’re not good enough. “You are enough, and you don’t exist for others. You exist for yourself.”

People will get bored of you. “You don’t exist to entertain or please others.”

There’s a million more I could go through, but hopefully these examples are enough for you to apply it to your own doubts.

This might be a good exercise to journal. Because then you actually have to get the thoughts out instead of them staying scrambled in your brain. Feel free to do a bulleted guide for yourself like this one!

Etc, etc, etc… Any one of these single bullets could be an entirely distinct post, but I hope this is enough to start you off, nonnie. I want to apologize for taking my sweet time responding, but I really hope you’re still out there, somewhere on tumblr, and you see this post. You are loved, nonnie, especially by me, and I’m always here if you need something. If you message me again, call yourself something, like “self talk nonnie,” so I know I’m still talking to you.

You are all loved! You are all enough! You are all valuable and beautiful as long as you stay true to yourselves.